Glass: After the Storm

Change

August was a battle of searing sun and humid thunderstorms. With long days and warm, uncomfortable nights that made summer feel like it would never end.

Sherlock unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves as he wandered towards the mantelpiece.

"Good morning, Mrs Hudson," he said calmly as he picked up a pile of letters.

"Morning, dear. I've left your letters up there and some tea on the side. Oh, and I did your windows."

He looked over as the sun shone through the clear, spotless glass and gave a polite nod. "Thank you."

She smiled and left the flat without another word.

Sherlock sat down in his armchair as he sifted through the letters; handwritten, requesting his help, boring. He glanced up as Margaux emerged into the kitchen. She was frowning as she tucked her shirt into her trousers.

"Good morning," he said.

"What's that flowery smell?"

"Mrs Hudson just cleaned the windows."

"It's giving me a headache," she grimaced.

Sherlock put down the letters and clasped his fingers together. "I sense a bad mood."

Margaux shook her head. "I'm fine."

He watched as she carried a bowl of cereal to the living room table, at the milk splashing over the edge as she sat down.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" he asked.

She didn't answer, instead she sat quietly, shovelling spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth.

"I take it you're running late for work again?" He waited for her to answer. "Hello?"

"Hm, oh, yeah," she replied distractedly.

He turned to look at her. "Are you actually listening to me?"

"Mhm. Sounds great."

He stood up and made his way to the table, taking a seat opposite her. "Margaux, I think you might be pregnant."

She stopped, her eyes rising slowly to meet his gaze. "Are you just saying that to get my attention?" 

"Yes. But also, I think you are."

She put down her spoon and sighed, brushing her hair out her face with her hands. "Love, as entertaining as I find the 'human pregnancy test' thing, I don't have time for this right now."

"This is the fourth day in a row you've woken up late. You're tired, distracted, irritable and you've developed a sudden aversion to the scent of Mrs Hudson's glass cleaner. Also, you're..." his eyes began to scan her face, moving down to her body.

"If you're about to tell me I've gained weight, I'd highly suggest you reconsider."

"Would I ever say such a thing?"

"Mm." She raised an eyebrow.

He sat calmly, watching as she stood up, put on her shoes and began gathering her things.

She glanced up at him, laughing slightly. "Stop looking at me like that."

"I understand it's rather improbable. Research suggests it can take up to a year to conceive–"

"Oh, well maybe you're just that good," she replied sarcastically.

"Margaux..."

"Okay, fine. Next time I'm passing a shop, I'll pick up a test." She hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and walked around the table, cupping his face in her hands and kissing him.